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letra de ahh! who am i? (clean) - mr. voodoo

agu – “ahh! who am i?”
[emcee(s): agu (aka mr. voodoo)]
[producer(s): looie ii]

[intro: agu (aka mr. voodoo)]
yeah, yeah, check it out, yo. this for all my brooklyn n-ggas, know’m mean? (brooklyn in the house, word up. repping for brooklyn) bed stuy, flatbush, brownsville, east new york, canarsie (all y’all, everything). you know’m mean? (everything, everything) bushwick, everywhere. fort greene (brooklyn sh-t right here), can’t forget fort greene (that’s right). do it like this, check it out

[verse 1: agu (aka mr. voodoo)]
up in the spot
agu unruly, i’m just an old-school
cat that calls gats “toolies” and calls blacks
“moolies.” when i was young, i used to smoke wooly
and f-ck without rubbers, daughters, wives, and grandmothers
i done did it, nappy hair under the fitted
n-ggas don’t like me, but their hoes wanna hit it. split it
when i finish, treat hoes like bank accounts
‘cause i when i pull out, ain’t no interest
scantily-clad hoes, family got mad hoes like ludacris
to challenge me’s your last role like brandon lee
there’s nothing you can do to this. you causing calamity?
(hahahaha, hahahaha) that’s quite humorous
i’m trife and greasier, aim in life is greedier
pack flame and leave you with more leaks than the media
empty clips in cops, stick through blocks, tube socks and flip-flops
n-gga, tell me i ain’t hip hop

[hook: agu (aka mr. voodoo)]
i want
diamonds on the neck, chrome drop-top
chilling on the scene with a gangsta lean
ooh wee! you see the ugliest
yeah, say it right, n-gga
money-hungriest bk soldier
get it right, n-gga
pint of henny, still sober, nine semi in holster
who am i?

[verse 2: agu (aka mr. voodoo)]
i got these n-ggas like
“name the dope fiend shooting,” noting
don’t know the meaning of water nor soap. free your mind
and your ass’ll follow. n-ggas run when they
see the nine ‘cause they know i’m blasting hollows
get hoes gassed to swallow, just l!ck and scream, sticking these
women from old hens to little chicketies. honey, please
i ain’t got twenty-threes, a chain worth a hundred g’s
still, you in front of me, on your knees. like jails
got a revolving door system, when it comes to females
i got a revolving wh0re system, i’m
sick with game, “super freak” like rick james
up inside somebody’s momma like been rain. ‘til
my soul burn in flames, i’ma pimp to death ‘cause a
wh0re’s pet is a pimp’s threat. agu
a “ladies man” like leon phelps, and it’s
too late for me, i’m beyond help

[verse 3: agu (aka mr. voodoo)]
so many
crimes that connect to me, labels afraid to write
checks to me, they make ‘em out to agu equity
you ain’t gotta like me, n-gga. just respect my g
and stop watching eat like mikey. my name
shakes up and horrifies. n-ggas shooting me
in their dreams and waking up and apologize. don’t bring
sand to the beach, n-gga. i’m not your size
your arms too short, your hands can’t reach
they demand a speech every time the don approach the floor
i curse lame broads, the kind that toast fours. connoisseur
of wh0res, i’m just a pimp that’s selling the game
y’all pimps is telling your game. a pimp’s game
self-explained in its action. y’all only got
yourselves to blame. the question i ask is: do
magicians give their tricks away? y’all do, just
yanking your zippers up before you put your d-cks away

- mr voodoo

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